Tuesday, June 14, 2011

It was a Thursday

And it was full of the AWESOME!!!

See here about that Sunday, that one time. That was not teh awesome. It was the opposite of awesome.

Here's a little back story. But click that link if you get lost because I'm not in the business of repeating myself. *snicker* The police officer, we'll call him the copper, came back to my house 3 weeks after the incident. Three. Entire. Weeks. I had already succeeded in obtaining an order of protection. The Prick got an order of protection against me too. Because he is in fear of his safety from my son and myself. Which is laughable. Really. Laughable. We may be close to buddah-ish, except I kill bees and spiders. Sometimes. I'm not that scared of spiders anymore. Almost. Okay. They're still totally creepy..... Where was I?

Copper says, "I just wanted to be sure you wanted to go through with pressing chargers. I'm going to send the report to the prosecuting attorney's office if you say yes but, (here it comes) if you choose to press charges, I'll be recommending your son get charges of Disorderly Conduct.

Me: "Really? You know he was, in his mind, defending himself. He dropped the rake 40 yards before he reached "The Pr... guy", right?"

Copper: "He was safe at home and went back."

Me: *rubs palm down face and groans* "Alright. We'll deal with that when it comes. But, if I don't press charges, what does that tell my son? I'll tell you what it says. Loud and fucking clear. It says, it's okay to put your hands on people. That violence is not only the answer, it is just and right. I cannot, in good conscience, allow that lesson to be taught to my child. You do what you have to, I want it sent to the Prosecutor."

Copper: "Have a good night."

Me: *mutters under my breath* "Sure thing, 5-0. It'll be fucking swell and shit."

I received a letter about a week later requesting my child to be present for a meeting in Diversion court. Shit. Fuckity, even.

We go. Travel 45 miles out of town to attend because I live in rural, nowhere town. We were nervous. The meeting/interview took approximately 50 minutes. What happened? I'm glad you asked, or didn't, whatever. The lady said, "We met. We talked. You're a good kid. We are done here. No charges. *sweeps imaginary paperwork off the desk* That prick is just a bully and probably always has been. Have a good day." *big, cheesy, Cheshire cat grin* Yeah, I just might be paraphrasing.

Bottom line: The Prick is getting assault charges, my son is getting ZERO charges. Suck it, Copper!

Right. I'm done talking...

No comments:

Post a Comment